


Nights

by Naesnark



Series: Don't you get it? I love you. [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, Post-Season 5, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, They will become increasingly more intimate as the fic progresses.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naesnark/pseuds/Naesnark
Summary: Catra and Adora return to Bright Moon, starting their new life together, healing from past trauma, and overall learning to be happy.It's not always easy, but it's much better when they can sleep in each other's arms, every night.Healing isn't linear, but at least they can work on it together.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: Don't you get it? I love you. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753237
Comments: 71
Kudos: 247





	1. Night 1 - Catra

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Before we begin, I just want to clarify that each chapter will be one night counting from the end of Season 5. This means that Chapter 1 is the night they arrive back to Bright Moon after the events of Heart pt2.
> 
> Sometimes it will include events of the day, though. I'm unsure if I'll add other characters now and then, or if I'll focus on Catra and Adora exclusively.
> 
> My previous short, [Sleepless Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24286612), has become somewhat of a prologue to this series, so feel free to check it out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bright Moon’s design is deceptively simple; endless corridors and high ceilings make the palace look like a maze of pastels and golds, and you have to resist the urge to place your hand on the wall, as one would do inside a labyrinth if they wanted to find the exit.  
> The group comes to a sudden halt and you look over at Glimmer, who sports a knowing grin that you don’t know what meaning to give. “And this is Adora’s room!” She announces.  
> “Oh.” You blink, squeezing Adora’s hand. “I guess this is where I drop you off, Princess.” You try to hide the disappointment in your voice by quipping at her, but the disappointment on Adora’s eyes mirrors yours.  
> “Actually,” Glimmer interrupts, “I thought you’d be staying with Adora. You two always set your sleeping mats so close to each other that I assumed you’d sleepover.”  
> “Oh.”  
> Before the two of you can die of embarrassment, she hooks her arm in Bow’s and teleports out of view.

It feels like centuries since the last time you’ve shared a bed with Adora, but the memories are so deeply burned into your psyche that you can almost hear the rustling of blankets and the familiar soft snoring that usually accompanies her every toss and turn.

Taking a deep breath, you survey the room where she’s slept for the past three years: it’s spacious and open, with a posh air to it, and a waterfall that makes you cringe until you realise that it’s so silent that you can barely hear the water running. Despite the obvious Bright Moon-style decoration of the space, Adora has kept it mostly bare - a reflection of her military upbringing that makes you feel a bit more at ease. A simple bed, surrounded by rich purple curtains, is placed right in the centre of it, and you wonder if it would be best for you to just pull out a throw blanket from the overflowing dresser to your right and sleep on the floor. You end up sitting down beside the bed, following Adora with your eyes. She doesn’t comment on your choice of spot, and you notice that, in spite of the genuine smile that adorns her features, she’s pacing the floor. You guess she’s probably as nervous as you are, but you won’t bring it up unless she does.

When she goes behind a sliding screen to take a shower, it takes every ounce of your self-control not to follow her. It feels like she’ll disappear if you let her out of your sight. In fact, you’re still waiting for the plot twist of this “dream” of yours. Part of you expects Double Trouble to come out from behind the screen instead, dramatically explaining to you the reason why you don’t deserve nice things.

You know the reason, but they’d explain it anyway.

Despite your lingering anxiety, it is Adora who comes out of the shower, wearing a clean tank top and boyshorts, a towel wrapped tightly around her head. You control the urge to reach out and touch her face just to make sure she’s real, and move your gaze downward instead to look at your feline companion. Melog rests their head on your thigh and licks your hand gently, before trotting up to Adora and rubbing themself on her legs with a loud purr. As you get up to shower, you notice that Adora has left you a set of clothes identical to hers, along with a clean towel, on a small stool beside the bathtub. You flash her a grateful smile and slide the screen closed for privacy.

As the warm water washes away the blood and grime stuck to your fur, you take a moment to examine your cuts and bruises, recently healed by She-ra’s powers, ignoring the sting you feel whenever droplets of hot water hit them. To your surprise, the soap doesn’t worsen the sting, and, instead, spreads a comfortable warmth along your body, soothing your aching muscles. You’re hit with a pang of guilt when you realise the product must have been specially made to clean Adora’s wounds. You shake your head to shake off the excess water from your hair, but you might as well be shaking off the terrible feeling that you are the primary reason Adora needs to keep this kind of medicine in her washroom.

Regardless of how much you shake, the feeling doesn’t go away.

You finish washing with a long sigh, begrudgingly admitting to yourself that, despite how much you hate water, you needed this shower to clean you from the inside out. The towels dry your fur and hair with surprising speed and you assume that the palace must be riddled with enchantments. A few weeks before, such pervasive use of magic would have made you incredibly uncomfortable. Now, you just feel grateful for the convenience of it.

The lights are already dim and Adora is already laying in bed when you leave the washroom, smiling when you find Melog curled up at her feet, purring softly.

“Hey. That’s my spot.”

Wordlessly, the feline looks up at you and tilts their head so expressively that you’re sure that they just called you an idiot. Adora stifles a laugh and taps the empty space beside her. “I forgot to ask Glimmer for a bigger bed, but I’m pretty sure our bed in the Fright Zone was around this size, and we both fit in that.”

“As long as you don’t transform into the Big Lady, we should be fine,” you reply, sitting beside her. The mattress is hard under you; not quite as hard as the ones used in the Fright Zone, but hard enough to instil in you a certain sense of familiarity.

“I thought you liked the Big Lady.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have spent so much time fighting her.”

“That’s just how you show affection.”

“Wow, I must really suck at showing affection.”

Neither of you seems able to figure out what to do with the myriad of arms and legs that keep touching and intertwining under the sheets. The skin of her legs is soft and warm against yours, and the nostalgia of it all is enough to make your eyes sting. When you finally settle, legs entwined and facing each other, Adora pulls the covers up and adjusts them under your chin, so focused in tucking you in that you could swear you’ve never seen anything cuter in your life.

“Then maybe we should work on other ways to show affection.” Adora can’t hide the note of mischief in her voice, but you both fall silent after she speaks. Would it be okay if you kissed her again? Feeling her breath hitting your lips makes it hard for you to focus.

“Is this real?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “But I hope it is.”

Her voice is barely a whisper, but her tone is so honest that you feel your eyes welling up again. You press against her forehead, purring loudly. Adora’s face is perfectly mapped out in your memory, but you can’t resist looking harder for any detail you might have missed. Everything is very much the same, slightly grown, and her eyes are focused on you with child-like wonder.

“So... you love me, huh?” She chuckles. “It only took you twenty years to admit it.”

“Says the girl who literally came back from the dead just to make sure she heard it right.”

“Listen.” Despite her fake-offended remark, her smile is tender and her hand is gentle when she cups your face. “The world was about to end.”

You laugh and drape an arm around her, blushing at how her breath catches up when you touch her. She pulls you closer in response. “Does that mean we only get to kiss when the world is ending?”

This time, it’s Adora who giggles. “If it is, I guess I’ll have to find a way to bring Prime back.”

“Ugh, no. There must be another way.”

“Have you tried asking?”

“For the world to end? Dozens of times. Didn’t work out too well, to be honest.”

“To kiss me, you brat.”

She’s gazing at you with half-lidded eyes, and you can’t help but fixate on her lips again. Taking a deep breath, you gather all your courage to say words you’ve barely allowed yourself to even think before today.

“Can I kiss you?”

She beams at you like she’d been waiting her entire life for the question, and tilts her head until her lips are brushing yours. You feel her trembling in your arms and rub your hand soothingly up and down her back, only to realise you’re also trembling and she’s doing the same to you. For some reason, that small gesture of reciprocity breaks some barrier you didn’t even know you had, and you choke on a sob, burying your head on the crook of her neck.

You feel her tense in surprise before wrapping her arms around you and placing a comforting hand on the back of your neck. She presses soft kisses to your hair, offering you a space to let go, so you do. Melog purrs loudly as you sob in Adora’s arms, releasing pain you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry...”

“It’s okay…” Her voice is so sweet it breaks your heart even more. “You don’t have to kiss me. It’s okay.”

Startled, you look up at her. “What? No. I want to.”

She brings her hands up to hold your face and wipes your tears away with her thumb. “Then what is it? Why are you crying?” She presses her lips together in a semblance of panic. “Was it something I did?”

“No.” You sound as panicked as she looks. “You’re perfect. I’m just… I’m not sure I deserve this. Deserve _you_.”

She looks so genuinely confused that you want to shake her and remind her that you nearly destroyed Etheria. The memory stabs you in the chest and you choke on another sob, pulling away from her, but her response is to hold you tighter and pepper your face with kisses.

“You do. You do,” Adora repeats, letting her own tears fall on your cheek. “I’m the one who needs to apologise. It’s my fault you were suffering.” You shake your head vehemently, gripping at the fabric of her tank top. She resumes, “I… I was an idiot. I just assumed you would follow me.”

“And I just assumed you would stay.” Your voice breaks and you grit your teeth.

“I wanted to,” she whispers. “I used to stay up all night, looking at the ceiling and wondering if I’d made the right choice.”

“You did.” You’re surprised at how easily the words come out of your mouth. The feeling of a weight being lifted off your chest makes you wonder if you’ve always known. “You did. I was just… Fuck, I guess we’re doing this. I hope Perfuma’s proud I’m opening up.”

“Perfuma?”

“Shh, let me speak.” This is not how you expected the night to go, but you have Adora in your arms, so maybe it’s not as bad as it could be. Adora lays on her back so you can rest your head on her chest, and you take comfort in feeling it rise and fall. She’s petting your hair, and it’s so tender and careful that you fear you might break. “Look, I’m not shifting blame from you because, honestly, we could have both handled things better. But… it’s also my fault. When you left, I never made an effort to think about your reasons. I just kept thinking about how we had spent our entire lives in the Horde planning our future together, and suddenly you were leaving me like it meant nothing to you.”

“It wasn’t like that…”

“I know. But it felt that way.” It’s painful to remember, and every cell in your body aches at the memory, but you’ve already made the decision to open your heart to Adora, so there’s no way you're stopping now. “It hurt. It hurt so much that I didn’t think there could be any other reason.” Adora has a pained expression on her face, but she doesn’t dare to interrupt you. “It felt like Shadow Weaver had been right all along: that you had finally outgrown me and thrown me away, just like she always said you would.”

“Shadow Weaver,” she hisses, her eyes suddenly set aflame. The onset of rage against her former mentor surprises you. “It took me so long to understand...” Adora’s voice is dripping with so much pain and regret that it makes you panic for not knowing how to soothe her. She pauses to collect herself, but when she speaks again there is a quiet rage to her tone that you’ve never heard before. “I only realised what she’d done to us on the night you left our camp. She manipulated us against each other our entire lives.” She begins to tremble. “I nearly lost you that night and I’ll never forgive her for it.”

“I should have stayed,” you mutter, using your fingertips to draw gentle circles on the skin of her stomach.

She looks down at you with the same fond smile that you’ve learned to associate with her love. “But you came back.”

“I couldn’t lose you again,” you cut her off. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. I promised I’d look out for you when we were kids, and I promised I’d be better from now on. So I had to go back.”

“I’m so happy you did…” She raises her torso to come closer to you and presses a tender kiss to your forehead. You support yourself on your elbows to meet her, but end up simply wrapping your arms around her neck and pressing your lips against hers. You want to kiss her again and again, nonstop, until the feeling of her lips is engraved into your memory even more than it already is, but every kiss still feels like the first, and it still feels like letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. You feel her smiling against you, knowing she feels you smiling too, and you can’t stop the purr that grows inside your chest.

You pull back to look at her, but she locks you in another series of kisses, cheeks flushed and giggling all the while. Your previous conversation is all but forgotten, but you’ve never seen her so happy in her entire life. Or so sleepy: her eyes have dark circles underneath, making you wonder when was the last time she’s allowed herself to rest. You don’t want to sleep and miss a single moment with her, but the events of the day have left you exhausted and the drowsiness is starting to claim you too.

When she pauses to breathe, you nuzzle her collarbone and settle your face in the crook of her neck. She sighs pleasantly, holding you against her, and rests her chin on the top of your head.

“Hey, Catra?”

“Hm?”

“Can we go to the rooftop, tomorrow night? Like we used to do after curfew in the Fright Zone. Except now we’re not sneaking around and we actually have stars to look at.” She’s clearly tired, but her voice still pitches with excitement. “Have you looked at the stars yet? The library has an old book on constellations and I want to point them all out.”

You chuckle. “I’m game. But I bet I can find them all faster.”

“We’ll see about that,” she replies, but you’ve already drifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank AmericanHoney913 for being my beta and teaching me how commas work in English.  
> I'm going to continue this fic, but I can't estimate the time between updates. Regardless, I appreciate your patience and feedback.


	2. Night 2 - Adora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their second night at Bright Moon, Adora is happier than she’s ever been, but what if Catra isn’t?  
> What if she can never make up for having left her alone in the Horde?  
> POV shift? POV shift.

“I can’t believe they actually named a constellation after me,” you say, disgruntled with embarrassment. Catra simply laughs at you but is considerate enough to stroke your hand with her thumb in an attempt to soothe you.

“Technically, they named it after She-Ra,” she corrects you. “You might be the most important one, but there were dozens before you.”

“What? I-I’m not the most important She-Ra.”

“You are to me.”

 _Smooth_. Okay, Catra caught you off-guard. She’s getting better at it, too, and you’re still not used to her spontaneous displays of affection, which she keeps to herself until no one is looking. Fortunately for you, back-talking Catra is a craft you have honed over many years of banter.

“Well, that explains why you look at me like I pinned the stars to the skies.” 

Catra glares at you with her cheeks flushing red. “I do _not_.” She holds her hand against your mouth before you can reply, and you turn into a pile of muffled laughter. Good, you haven’t lost your touch.

She leads you across the halls with unexpected ease, and you realise that, even though you’ve arrived at Bright Moon just the previous evening, she’s already memorised the layout of the palace, something that had taken you several days of studying old blueprints to do. When you reach your room, you find that a sheet of paper is taped to the door, just small enough to remain unnoticed to those who roam the halls casually. When you come closer, you’re faced with flowery cursive spelling out ‘ _Catra & Adora’s Love Nest_’.

“ _Glimmer_ ,” Catra growls, enunciating the name slowly and clawing the sheet off. By the time she manages to crumple it into a tiny ball and throw it away, you’re _this close_ to rolling around on the floor in a cackling fit.

Groaning, Catra opens the door and enters the room, stomping the floor until she reaches the bed and plops herself down on it with a heavy sigh. You follow her, Melog walking at your heel and mewling softly, which makes you guess she isn’t holding a grudge and really just wants your company. Melog has become your partner in caring for Catra when she doesn’t care for herself, and their presence has helped you make better sense of Catra’s emotions. You’re grateful for it, and the magical being seems to have a special fondness for you too.

Catra’s tail swishes around when you sit down on the bed, and you gaze up to her scowl and crossed arms. You reach to hold her hand between yours. “It’s just a joke. We’ll talk to them tomorrow.”

She growls in response, but her tail rubs carefully around your forearm. You kiss her knuckles and offer her a soft smile. She sighs and gives in, relaxing and laying back on you.

“I just don’t like it when people pry into my personal life,” she finally admits.

“They’re just happy that we’re happy.” At this, Catra releases another sigh and lets herself slide down until her head is cushioned by your lap. You caress her temple with your fingertips until her frown is gone. “I mean, ‘Love Nest’ does sound kind of cute.”

Catra groans. “Yeah, if you’re a five-year-old.”

“Well, if I remember it right, when you were five you said you wanted us to have a million babies.”

“I did _not_!” she screeches.

“I clearly remember you saying it.” You twirl a lock of her hair around your finger when she starts to groan again. “I even remember how you wanted to name them all after the different kinds of food we would eat outside the Fright Zo-!”

Catra covers your mouth with her hand and you laugh so hard that your sides begin to hurt. “No. _No_. We’re changing topics _right now_.” You’re snorting against her palm and she’s failing to suppress a smile, and that only makes you laugh even harder.

When the laughter subsides and Catra’s hand moves to cup your cheek instead, you return to stroking her hair, still marvelling at the feeling of happiness that blossoms inside your chest. Catra’s eyes are soft as she looks at you, no traces of tension in her brow. Her expression is content and loving, and you try to remember if she’s always looked at you this way.

There were times in the past when you wondered how things could have become so incredibly messed up, but now you find yourself wondering how everything came to fit so perfectly in its rightful place. Catra is with you, a steady presence by your side, grounding you and ready to remind you that you are enough and that the world, _her world_ , is better just because you are in it. You have nothing to prove to her. She doesn’t expect great things from you, she doesn’t demand you live up to your potential, or for you to be an example for others to follow. Her wishes are simple and straightforward: “ _Stay.”_

The Heart was falling apart; Etheria was dying; Horde Prime was winning. Catra’s attention could have been in a million other places, but she was holding you and she never let go. She took you in her arms and she told you she loved you. At that moment you understood that losing you would be as devastating to her as her loss would have been to you. And you hate yourself for not having realised it before then.

“We should get ready for bed.” Catra pokes your forehead gently with her claw, drawing you away from your thoughts. Melog nuzzles the palm of your free hand, and you understand.

“Someone wants to cuddle.”

“Shut up,” Catra demands, her tone tender despite her words. She gets up and finds her sleeping clothes, getting changed with her back to you. You look away out of respect, still unsure of where your boundaries are, and unfasten the buckles of your belt as you get up. You always remove your clothing in a very specific order: belt, boots, jacket, sweatshirt, and leggings. It had become a ritual to you, to stare at yourself in the mirror as you undressed, reminding yourself that the next day would be another day of fighting in the war. It seems a little pointless now. Silly even.

You notice Catra flashing you a shy smile through the mirror as she comes up to wrap her arms around you. You decide you like this new ritual better: the one that involves Catra hugging your waist and resting her head on your shoulder, asking if you're ready for bed as she kisses your cheek.

You melt against her as she walks you back, still embracing you, and lie down together. Having her close feels unbelievable, but it also feels _right_ , and you wonder how you were even able to fall asleep before, without her warmth by your side. Melog settles themself at the end of the bed (which is now big enough for four people, despite your assurance to Glimmer that a smaller bed would do), filling the room with their steady purr.

“You look exhausted,” Catra remarks, clearing a strand of hair from your eyes.

“I think it will take me years to make up for the sleep I missed during the war.”

“During the war?” she scoffs. “You’ve never been able to relax a single day in your life, idiot.”

“Hey, I’m getting better at it! Look at how relaxed I am right now!” You scoot closer to her, lazily draping yourself all over her. You kiss her before she can protest, giggling at her predictable eye-roll, and bask in the warmth of the hand that strokes your back.

Goodness, how could you have lived so long without this? How could you ever think your destiny was to save Etheria or die trying, when your destiny is right here, consisting in soft fur, unruly hair, sharp claws in gentle hands, and a face covered with freckles you want to kiss one by one.

You close your eyes, brushing your lips on Catra’s forehead, as she curls up into your embrace. Your bodies are getting used to each other again, and holding her isn’t as awkward as it used to be when you tried to recover the proximity you used to share. Three years is a long time to sleep without a warm body by your side.

_Three years…_

You wonder how Catra spent those years. Your only references are the times when you fought each other, She-ra against Force Captain Catra. Were there times, during the war, where you didn’t fight? Sometimes the very act of glaring at each other felt like a challenge, a promise of competition. Remembering it makes your chest tighten.

Before you can stop them, memories of Catra’s pain rush through your mind: her look of confusion in Thaymor, the betrayal in her eyes when she decided to walk away, the badly-hidden sadness when she returned your sword to you. Having her in your arms, so small and soft against your chest, somehow makes it more painful to acknowledge how much you hurt her back then. Part of you wants to tell you that you were doing the right thing: leaving the Evil Horde and fighting for a just cause. But that wasn’t all, was it?

The moment you found the sword in the Whispering Woods, your life was so shaken that it shattered your sense of identity. All you could focus on were the lies the Horde told you and the ineffability of your past. It never occurred to you to look back to what you were leaving behind. After all, Catra would follow you, right?

You were such a fucking idiot.

You probably still are, holding Catra in your arms as if you deserved her; as if you were somehow worthy of the peaceful expression of her face, head nested in your chest and listening to your heartbeat. You hope she’s forgiven you, but the truth is that you’ve barely forgiven yourself, and so you can’t fathom how she would ever let go of the way you abandoned her.

You’re startled back to reality by gentle hands holding your face and a pair mismatched eyes piercing through your anguish. Catra is silent and you struggle to even hear her breathe. She doesn’t ask, simply looks at you, softer now that you are focused in the present. You try to look away, but your gaze lands on her lips, and the memory of kissing her rips a strangled sob from your chest. Catra looks confused for the fraction of a second, before tilting her head forward to rest her forehead against yours.

“Sorry,” you mutter, “I was somewhere else.”

Her expression softens and she brushes her nose on yours. “Going somewhere without me? How dare you.”

You try to chuckle, but your voice betrays you, turning it into something akin to another sob. Her eyebrows knit together.

“Wanna talk about it?” Catra looks vaguely uncomfortable when she asks, most likely remembering she’s not very good at _talking about it_ , but the expression of concern she wears is genuine, and you know you have her full attention.

“I don’t know how to talk about it without sounding like an idiot.”

“You always sound like an idiot, so it’s not like I’ll be fazed by it.”

You snort at her comment and press a firm kiss to her lips, silently thanking her, but your expression falls the moment you try to organise your thoughts. She holds your face, her fingertips ghosting on your temple before her thumb rubs your cheekbone soothingly. She shifts closer to you, moving one arm under you in a protective embrace. It brings tears to your eyes to have Catra comforting you, so careful and gentle when you’ve barely admitted to yourself that care is something you need.

You place your ear to her sternum, listening to her heartbeat. It feels safe. Maybe you can just fall asleep without _talking about it_. Yes… that sounds like a good idea.

You feel the soft pressure of her lips against the top of your head. “I know you’re not okay.” You drape your arm over her waist and nuzzle against her fur when she breaks the silence. Your head rises and falls with her chest when she sighs deeply. “We don’t need to talk about whatever is bothering you if you don’t want to, but… you know you can, right?”

You nod slowly, feeling your eyes sting again. You don’t need to look up to know she is watching you. She’s worried. Melog crawls over to you and licks your face a few times, whimpering and trying to nuzzle their way under your chin. You offer them a gentle pat in the head when they give up and lay down behind you to warm your back.

“ _I don’t want you getting in trouble on my behalf,_ ” you whisper. “ _Just cover for me, okay? I’ll be back before anyone even knows I’m gone._ ” Catra freezes under you, and you can’t even feel her breathe anymore.

Catra’s heart pounds against your eardrum, but you don’t dare move a single muscle. You brace yourself for the inevitable shove preceding her leaving the bed. After a moment, she exhales.

“Y-you know what? Nevermind.,” You fake a chuckle, stuttering. You rise to turn around, stopped by her fingers wrapping around your wrist. The arm underneath you pulls you back into her embrace and she presses your head on the crook of her neck. You struggle at first, but her hands, though gentle, are firm and unyielding. She holds you in place and her voice is a whisper barely louder than yours.

“Why are you thinking about this?”

Contrary to your expectation, there is no anger in her tone, no bite. You shut your eyes and grip the fabric of her top.

“Because,” you start. _Because what?_ Words evade you. You have a hundred apologies strangled in your throat but none of them seems to carry the weight of everything you need to tell her. “Because I’m sorry.”

Seconds pass before you hear any sound other than Catra’s steady heartbeat, and each second builds up the panic inside your chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up! It’s just that I can’t believe you’re here, after everything that happened, after everything I’ve done.”

“Everything _you’ve_ done?” Catra scoffs. “Did we stay outside for too long? Are you running a fever?”

“Catra.” You look up at her and swallow back your panic in order to sound firm. “I never should have left you.”

She sighs deeply, slicking her hair back to look at you with a head tilt. “And I should never have done a lot of things.”

“Catra, please, I know you can’t possibly have forgiven me.”

Catra looks away, obviously taken aback by your remark. Her embrace hasn’t lost its tightness nor has she pulled away. Instead, she seems to struggle with something for a few seconds. She finally tugs on you so you can still be in her arms, but eye-level with her.

“You really want to talk about this?” she asks with a note of pain in her voice.

“I do,” you reply, gathering all your courage.

“Okay.” Catra presses her forehead in yours and brings one hand to cradle your face. “What happened when you left? Why didn’t you take me with you?”

Catra is unexpectedly direct, but you can sense that these are questions that have been bubbling under the surface for years. You shoot a quick glance at Melog, just to try and understand the inscrutable expression in her face. Their mane is still blue, which tells you that there are no traces of anger in Catra’s emotions, but the strained whimper they release when your eyes lock hits your chest like shards of glass. But you need to press on. The more time you’ve spent with Catra since you rescued her from Prime’s ship, the more you feel the weight of a million things you need to say, explain, and apologise for. You owe Catra that, and she deserves an explanation, no matter how insufficient you feel the truth is.

You tell her about finding the sword and being held captive by Bow and Glimmer. You describe the visions, the voices, and the blackouts you had no control over. You tell her you intended to return to the Fright Zone, but that everything was turned upside down so suddenly that you needed answers, and you couldn’t help but go find them.

“I guess I didn’t return to you right away because I thought you’d be safer,” you continue. “If you were found breaking curfew or disobeying orders, they’d punish you. I thought I was protecting you, but I’m starting to think I was wrong.”

You begin to struggle with words but, despite the soft echo of pain in Catra’s eyes, she is listening to you attentively and rubbing your jaw with her thumb. You barely manage to say much more than that before you choke on a sob and gasp for air. Catra holds you close, letting you cry until her top is damp with your tears. The sound that comes out of your throat is barely understandable, but you know it sounds like an apology being repeated _ad eternum_. Catra kisses your tears away and presses the palm of her hand over your heart until you’ve calmed down significantly.

“They punished me anyway,” she finally says. “Shadow Weaver wanted to send me to Beast Island before Hordak stepped in and made me Force Captain.” Your eyes widen in shock as you process what had nearly happened. “I guess that was one of the things that really hurt me? I thought you’d know that they’d hurt me, and you still didn’t come back to stop it.”

“I’m sorry.” The shame might just eat you alive.

“It’s… it’s actually okay.” She shrugs lightly. “I’ve had time to think. To try to understand.” She fixes a lock of your hair behind your ear. “And I’ve done things I shouldn’t ever have done so… It’s not like I can even judge you.”

“For two people who basically share the same heart, we sure messed up.”

“We were pretty messed up too,” she adds with a chuckle.

You can finally breathe again, having tamed your shame a bit. You rub your eyes using your forearm and shoot her a fond smile. “I really wanted to have you beside me all these years.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

Catra scoffs. “Will _you_ ever forgive _me_?”

“I guess I already have.”

“Good, because I’ve forgiven you too.”

“You have?”

“Of course I have, dummy.” Her eyes turn the softest you’ve ever seen. “I love you.” A splash of red covers her cheeks and you try to focus on that, rather than on the beat you know your heart just skipped after hearing those words again. ”Don’t you dare go all _‘You love me?’_ again.”

You consider shooting a snarky remark at her, but settle with bringing your forehead closer to lay against hers and saying, “I love you too.”

The words come out easily, flowing from your chest to your lips like lyrics of a song playing in the deepest parts of your soul. Saying it is a relief, a promise, and it’s something that leaves your soul so bare that it’s almost terrifying.

“I just needed to understand why you did it,” Catra murmurs. “I think Perfuma is right.”

“Okay, you really need to explain to me what’s this whole thing with Perfuma, because I’m not sure if I’m at all okay with you bringing other women into this bed. Even if it’s figurative.”

Catra laughs loudly before replying, “I didn’t take you for the jealous type.”

“Anyway, what’s the deal with Perfuma?” You dodge her remark and hear her snicker in response before she adopts a serious, though somewhat embarrassed, expression.

“Well... she told me that I needed to open my heart to you.”

You blink. “She did?”

“And then she suggested some kind of meditation therapy for my _issues_ and, uh, it was a little too much.” Catra blushes slightly. “But I think I got the gist of it: we need to talk to each other. About all of this. Otherwise, we’ll just keep assuming things and…” Catra’s voice breaks a little, “I don’t want to lose you again. Ever.”

“Yeah, I… I don’t want to lose you either. It was too painful when I thought I had.” You rub your face on the pillow before any tears can fall. “There’s still so much I need to tell you. So much I want to know and understand.”

“Yeah. Same.” She presses a light kiss to your lips. “But I think we had our fill for today.”

You know well enough that this is not the last time your past will haunt you both but, for now, there is a sliver of hope that you might find a way to fix it together. 

“Also, Adora,” she adds with a grin, “I don’t want you to bring other women to bed either.”

You giggle and kiss her neck gently, delighting in the steady purr that immediately fills the room. Her body feels warm against yours, comfortable where your skin brushes against her fur, and you stay very still, enjoying the feeling.

For now, you think you can sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I kept you waiting for so long.  
> I work full-time and have chronic fatigue, so it takes me a lot to find the time to write. I also would never deliver a chapter I wasn't completely satisfied with, so I'm not rushing it.  
> The next chapters are pretty much outlined, which already helps a lot.  
> Again, I must thank my lovely beta AmericanHoney913 for reviewing this with me, even if she flipped me off after reading all this angst.


	3. Night 3 - Catra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra really doesn't like to be teased, and Adora is scared that it means something entirely different. Also, showers.

“ _Love Nest?_ ” you snarl. “Really, Sparkles?”

Glimmer snickers behind Bow, who has the decency of, at least, trying to hold his laughter in and look embarrassed. After a day full of political meetings that you skipped by roaming the streets of Bright Moon, you had finally joined Adora and the others at the library, where Glimmer welcomed you with a shit-eating grin, causing you to greet her back with that much _enthusiasm_.

Adora rubs her chin with a thoughtful expression. “How did you even figure out Catra and I uh… that we’re, y’know…”

Glimmer’s eyebrows shoot up and even Bow glances at you with a sympathetic smile. Glimmer crosses her arms, looking vaguely amused. “You’re joking, right? You two have been holding hands literally everywhere and giggle like two dorks whenever you look at each other. And you look at each other _a lot_.”

“No, we don’t!” you reflexively hiss, tail lashing from side to side.

Adora raises an eyebrow and stammers for a moment before grimacing something between embarrassment and smugness. “Well, uh, you kinda do.”

“ _Look who’s talking!_ ”

You’d think the immeasurable amount of books and scrolls cramming the shelves would do something to dampen the noise, but you can still hear your high-pitched shriek echo through the chamber while a scholar’s reproachful glare burns into your skull.

Bow steps in to do some damage control before you dig yourself an even bigger hole to crawl into. “Listen, we don’t know what happened at the Heart of Etheria, but whatever happened you two seemed to come out of it a lot closer-”

“-which we didn’t even think was possible!” Glimmer finishes, draping an arm around Bow’s shoulders.

That did not feel like damage control.

None of this is untrue, of course, but there's a part of you that still pushes back from any attempts to pry inside your chest, so all you can do now is tug at Adora's hand to drag her out of the library as she waves your friends a clumsy goodnight. You hear the scholar sigh in relief right before the door clicks closed.

Feeling your face practically radiating heat, you lead Adora to your shared room and close the door behind you, hiding your face in your hands. Melog raises their head from Adora’s pillow to look at you, stepping down from the bed to nuzzle your leg with a soft, comforting mewl.

Once you allowed yourself to believe that people other than Adora were capable of genuine kindness, you began to understand why she held so much love for everyone in the Alliance. But for all you’ve grown fond of Bow and Glimmer, you still can't help but push them back- you can only hope they understand.

“Catra?”

“ _What?_ ” You instantly regret your tone as soon as you notice the crestfallen expression on Adora’s face. “Shit, I’m sorry.” Adora doesn’t recoil when you reach out, so you wrap your arms around her waist and rest your forehead against her chin. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh.” Although she relaxes visibly at your touch and apology, she still doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Did I misunderstand?” she whispers, suddenly giving you a tentative semblance of a neutral look, but somehow appearing even more upset in the process. You silently admonish yourself for it.

“Misunderstand what?” Confused- the thought of hurting her enough to mortify you- you rub her back soothingly to encourage her to explain.

“Well… you look so mad whenever they mention us being…” She presses her lips in a thin line, furrowing her eyebrows until they form a crease between them. You resist the urge to smooth it out with a kiss. “We’re together, right? I mean, it’s totally my fault if I interpreted it wrong after you told me you loved me and we kissed, and I mean… It might have been just wishful thinking from my part, and I just _assumed_ -” 

“Oh geez, Adora, we _are_.” You’re horrified to think you made Adora doubt the status of your... _togetherness_ . “I’m not mad; I’m just being _me_.” You squeeze her tighter in your arms and rub your cheek against hers, surprising even yourself with how easy it is to show her this kind of affection, after holding it in for so long. 

Adora relaxes and guides you to bed while holding your hands. Pulling you in to curl up comfortably on her lap, her blush only spreads from her face down to her neck as she speaks, “Maybe we should discuss this? We haven’t exactly, uh, defined-” she gestures between the two of you , “-this.”

“Well, I didn’t know you wanted to define it. I mean, not a lot changed, right? We’re best friends, and we’re... “

“...lovers?”

You swear your heart swells three sizes and that your lifespan increases tenfold the moment she utters those words, her tone endearingly unsure but unmistakably hopeful. You bury your face between Adora's shoulder and collarbone while nodding, the resulting purr embarrassingly loud.

“Girlfriends,” you whisper, making both of you crumble in a fit of giggles. The words make your chest sing, and Adora’s eyes are wide in a mix of glee and wonder. You giggle at the small _wow_ that exits her lips and continue to purr with unabashed happiness.

Adora smirks and presses her cheek against yours. "Ah-hah! So you _do_ giggle!"

"Oh, fuck you." You roll your eyes with a chuckle, framing her face with your hands and pressing your forehead against hers.

" _Fuck me yourself, you coward_ ," she quips, but the joke freezes you in place. You watch Adora's face go through a myriad of different expressions, from shock to embarrassment, followed by panic. Her cheeks are about as red as her jacket.

"W-wow, would you look at the time!" She immediately gets up, fidgeting with her hands. "I'm late for my shower!" She stumbles to the dresser and takes out an unreasonable amount of towels. "Well, you wait here while I go take my, uh, _very cold_ shower!"

She disappears behind the screen door, but not before knocking down assorted knick-knacks from the dresser, which you consider picking up and putting back in place. You ponder her words for a few seconds, feeling the end of your tail twitch and your cheeks burn. The thought of getting closer to Adora isn't new to you, but it’s something you’ve always pushed back with all your might, not knowing how she would react to it. For all the certainty of your feelings, you're still too scared to assume you want the same things, and even more afraid of upsetting her by bringing it up in conversation. Despite this, Adora's reaction to her own joke made your heart entertain the possibility that she feels the same way.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you rap at the screen door, almost hoping Adora doesn’t hear it over the sound of water running.

The water stops. “Is everything alright?” you hear her ask, breathless.

“Do you want me to wash your back?” you offer, trying to keep your tone dismissive. “Your biceps are probably too huge for you to reach beyond your shoulder blades.”

You washed each other’s backs a million times when you were children, but it’s not quite the same now. Touching each other is still as natural as it’s always been, but it’s also different. It’s hard to describe, and you’ve been focusing on enjoying it instead of trying to wrap your mind around it. 

There’s still no denying the way you feel; as close as you are now, it just doesn’t feel _like enough_. Adora’s skin is soft and comforting, her scent feels like the home you never thought you’d have, and her voice is everything you want to listen to before you fall asleep in her arms. Were it in your power, you would be content to nest yourself inside her chest and simply exist.

You hear her stifle a gasp before she replies, her voice little more than a whisper. “Sure.”

“Are you sure?” you check in, still not wholly confident she is comfortable with it.

“It’s alright. Really.” You hear a smile in her voice, and you believe her.

Admittingly, you hadn’t planned this far, but you assume that the logical next step is to take your clothes off. Adora has left her nightgown on the bathroom stand next to a pile of clean towels, and you ponder doing the same, but decide to let your clothes fall on top of hers. You finally slide the door open and enter the washroom. You wipe some steam off the mirror hanging on the wall to look at your blushing cheeks and realise that despite everything you’ve been through together, this is probably the most terrified you’ve ever felt. Adora's standing with her back to you, bright red spreading from her neck to her shoulders. You step inside the tub behind her, not daring to bridge the gap between your bodies. 

“Hey Adora,” you gently greet her.

Her voice is equally gentle. “Hey.”

“It's going to get cold if you don’t turn the water back on.” She nods and turns the tap, tilting her head back to let the water fall on her face. Her eyes are closed in an expression of bliss that warms your heart. She hums, content, and you can feel your shaking hands steady themselves. You look back at your feet, afraid to be caught staring without her permission. It’s pointless, since the washroom is much too saturated with steam for you to be able to make out much of her form, anyway.

“Do you want to wash my hair first?” she asks, peering at you over her shoulder.

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

You pick up a bottle of shampoo, the same you’d used before, and slather some of its contents on Adora’s hair. It’s much longer than when you were barely teenagers and washed each other for the last time, but it’s the same sandy blonde you remember. It’s soft but strong- much like Adora herself- and you spend a few seconds admiring the perfect waves of hair cascading down her back. You look back up again, feeling your cheeks heat up. Unaware of your struggle, Adora’s shoulders relax as soon as you start massaging her scalp, and the intimacy of the gesture softens the butterflies inside your chest. It feels comfortable, filling you with a sense of peaceful domesticity.

She gasps when the back of your hand accidentally brushes the skin of her neck, and you remove your hands, holding them up in the air. A surge of panic creeps up your spine. “ _Shit_. Did I touch somewhere I shouldn’t have?”

You hear a soft chuckle in response. “I’ve never thought of my body in terms of ‘ _places-Catra-can’t-touch,_ ’ to be honest.”

You snort, relieved not to have overstepped. “Wow, that sounds a lot like permission,” you tease. The joke serves more to ease your nerves than anything else.

“Oh, shush.” She giggles, bumping the back of her head to the top of yours. Her voice adopts a more serious tone, although a little shier. “It’s perfectly okay. It felt kind of nice.” She shudders when you plant a light kiss on her neck. “ _Oh_. That’s good too.”

“Is it okay to kiss you like this?” you ask.

“Mmhm.” Adora sounds like she’s melting, and your heart skips another beat. Your mind is suddenly focused on the body in front of you, taking time to appreciate the hard muscles on her shoulders and back. Feather-like, you run the pads of your fingertips on the space between her shoulder blades, retracting your claws and feeling the place where hard muscle meets her spine. You eye the lines trailing her shoulder blades from top to bottom- painful reminders of the first time you had come to Bright Moon- crossed by the dark ridges that Prime had you inflict upon her, but Adora shudders at your touch, and your focus shifts to concern, pushing away the panic growing inside you.

Hoping to soothe her, you trail the side of her neck with kisses. You try to control your breathing, but you can’t quite do it until Adora’s hand reaches back to intertwine her fingers in yours. 

“You should probably rinse my hair before kissing any more, though,” she whispers. “Otherwise, you’ll be tasting soap for a week.”

You chuckle an acknowledgement and move a little closer to deliver a peck on her cheek, reaching for the shower wand Adora holds out for you. You cover Adora’s eyes as you rinse her hair, and feel her features soften into a gentle smile. Pressing another kiss on her shoulder when you’re done, you begin to rub her back with soap. Her muscles are tense under your palms, so you massage her instead, easing away knots of muscle that seem to have knots of their own. Adora winces at some of the worst pressure points, but you keep your massage steady, running your thumbs on each side of her spine.

_If you ignore the scars, if you don’t think about them, you should be fine. If you only focus on the tight muscles beneath your fingertips, you won’t notice the textured lines all over her skin._

Adora reaches back to touch your forearm. “Can we sit down? I think that it’ll be more comfortable for both of us.” Before you can verbally agree, she adds, “O-only if you want to, of course. I’m feeling much more relaxed now, so you don’t have to keep rubbing my back, really!”

You scoff and press your thumb on a particularly tense spot on her neck, making her flinch before she can hold it in. “Ah, yes, so very _relaxed_. The most relaxed _brick wall_ I’ve ever seen.” Before Adora can talk back, you sit down on the tub and watch as she does the same, following the way her back and arms flex as she adjusts. She scoots close to you, between your legs, and you press another kiss on her shoulder.

“I really appreciate you doing this, by the way,” Adora says, leaning back against you. Your heart stutters at the feeling of her body on yours, and you only notice you’re shaking again when Adora squeezes your hand. “Please tell me if you feel uncomfortable with anything I do, ok?” She runs her fingers along your palm and wrist, planting a gentle kiss on your fingertips. Adora looks serene, but you can tell there is a hint of nervousness in her voice.

You wrap your arms and tail around her waist and rest your chin on her right shoulder. “I will. But you have to tell me if you do too.”

Adora nods. “I will. I promise.” She leans forward again, giving you some space to continue massaging her back. You feel the loss of her warmth against you and almost regret it, urging to pull her closer. But you don’t. Right now, all you want to do is focus on Adora and care for her as you should have done for the last three years, making sure she feels as loved as she makes you feel.

You blink, shocked at your thought process. When had it become so easy to believe in Adora’s love?

You guess you’ve always known, you think; the memory of Adora’s warmth is as old as your oldest memories of yourself. It puzzles you to think of how easy it is to spiral into doubt when you’ve always known, somewhere deep inside your heart, that Adora is as essentially yours as you are hers.

Adora has a blissed-out expression as you stroke her back, making an effort not to wince too much when you hit a tender spot. You press a small kiss to a particularly tricky knot to undo, and Adora’s shoulders relax.

“Thanks, Catra.”

“It’s the third time you thank me, dummy.”

“ _Thank you, Catra_.” She faces away from you, but the smirk in her voice is unmistakable.

“Stop.”

“ _I’m soooo grateful._ ”

You can’t help but laugh as Adora stretches back dramatically to lean against you and you wrap your arms around her waist as she gets cosy in your lap. You’re too enthralled by her scent to feel embarrassed about her body pressing against yours, and instinctively bury your face in her hair and inhale. Adora smells like sunshine and home, vanilla and the crackling of a fireplace, even under the almost-sickening sweetness of soap. You nuzzle against her as a rumble rises from your chest.

Your tail swishes happily as you purr, but something feels out of place. Adora sits very still, not looking at you, and you feel a tendril of fear chilling down your spine. You place your hands on her shoulders to gently turn her around to face you. You don’t know what to expect when your eyes finally meet, but whatever you conjured in your anxious mind, it could never match the _intensity_ you find in her features. Her pupils are blown out, barely a ring of blue around them, her mouth is a thin line, and her face and neck are bright red.

You swallow thickly, frozen in place by her expression and barely reacting to the way her hand rises to cup your cheek. Adora seems to finally notice your shock, blinking a few times to regain her composure. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but no sound comes out.

“Can I kiss you?” she manages. You nod an affirmative, watching her eyes soften and feeling her hands come up to cradle your face, holding you like you’re something precious that might slip between her fingers. Adora’s pupils are still blown, but she’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen and, at that moment, you just feel so _loved_ that you can only pull her closer against you as if your bodies could somehow fuse into one being. Adora makes a sound that sets your chest on fire, and you deepen the kiss, amazed at how perfectly your lips slot together.

Adora’s tongue slides between your lips and finds yours, and you can’t stop the moan that builds in your throat. The moment you release it is the moment when she groans and pins you against the back of the tub even harder, her body sliding against yours.

You run your fingers over the hard muscle of her arms, trying to feel every curve of her biceps as you tilt back and let her kiss your neck. Her kisses are cautious, but the feeling they instil in you is everything but. Panting, you pull back to look at her eyes, half-lidded and dark. Your stomach twists pleasantly when the realisation hits you: Adora wants you. _Of course she does_ , you think. You should have known your wishes were aligned, but years of repression have left you wary of wishful thinking.

When she pulls back to breathe, which is something you had also forgotten to do, you take the time to look closer at her, searching for any trace of doubt in her features. You find none. However, as you appreciate the edge of her jawline, the lights hit her face in a certain way, and you notice something else entirely.

Your entire body freezes with the chill that runs down your spine, all the anxiety you had built up during the shower settling heavily in your stomach. Your eyes widen in horror as you try to crawl away, but the bathtub traps your back. Before you can think, your hands are on Adora’s shoulders, pushing her back, and you’re rising to step out.

You hear Adora ask what the matter is, but your lungs refuse to cooperate, choking on your thoughts before you can turn them into words. Your eyes can’t leave the thin lines adorning her jaw and the lower part of her left cheek, slightly lighter and pinker than the rest of her skin. When you look down, you finally process what you’d been carefully avoiding until now. Adora’s body is covered in scars: some similar to the ones on her face, and others that must have been caused by all kinds of weapons and shrapnel.

Adora reaches out and you recoil like a wild animal, hugging yourself until you feel your claws digging into your arms. The only answer you can give her is to shake your head, eyes wide in an expression that spells out ‘No no no’.

Whether or not your claws created all the marks— and you know for a fact that they caused very few, as you had seldom dared to strike Adora in her human form— you know you are responsible. You were the one who gave the order, and you were the one who commanded the battalions that invaded rebel lands. Adora had been fighting _you_ as much as she had been fighting Hordak.

A firm grip on your wrists startles you enough to break you from your downward spiral. You find Adora’s blue eyes fixed in you, no longer dark and desperate, but soft and loving instead.

“Catra, look at me.”

You struggle. Her grip doesn’t budge.

“Look at me.”

When you don’t react, Adora carefully embraces your trembling frame, and you find you have no strength left to resist her. You drop your head to her collarbone, and let her pick you up in her arms, stepping out of the tub and carrying you to bed. You’re vaguely aware that your fur is still wet and dampening the sheets, but you can't process the thought just yet.

You feel a pang of loneliness when Adora walks away from the bed, but it’s short-lived. She returns with a towel wrapped around her and another in her hands, which she uses to envelop you. Still too weak to protest, you let her dry your hair and fur, focused as ever, her motions kinder than you deserve. 

Your eyes are still wide in panic and shame, but they also sting with the tears that roll down your cheeks, promptly wiped away by Adora's gentle fingertips. You try to shake your head away, but your body betrays you and you find yourself leaning into her touch. You finally find enough strength to be angry at yourself, disgusted at the way you yearn for affection you’re not worthy of.

Adora brings you your sleeping clothes, and you refuse to let her help you put them on- you’re not a child. She flashes a sheepish smile and steps back to change. When you’re both done, she sits next to you, reaching out to hold both your hands. She gives you time to refuse, but you don’t. 

Gentle, always painfully gentle, she places her hands on top of yours and gives you a small encouraging nod. You struggle with yourself before accepting her permission, but end up squeezing her hands tight, just like you used to do when you were children.

She doesn’t budge nor does she wince, letting you squeeze as hard as you need to in order to ground yourself like you had done so many times in the barracks when you wanted to cry and scream. Shadow Weaver could never know that you, or worse, Adora, were capable of such weakness.

Of course, you’re not five anymore. 

Shadow Weaver is dead. 

You and Adora have the room to yourselves. 

It’s _your_ room, subject to _your_ privacy.

Taking a few deep breaths to regain control over yourself, you try to focus on your surroundings. You focus on the soothing circles that Adora’s thumbs draw on the top of your hands and the way she matches your breaths with her own, setting a slow rhythm that you subconsciously follow. Melog is curled around your back, their loud steady purr hanging in the air like a lifeline. Your legs are falling asleep and you uncross them, grateful for the sting that keeps you firmly rooted in reality.

You finally open your eyes to see Adora’s own fixed on you, unbelievably blue and intense with concern. Adora flashes you a soft smile and you smile back to reassure her, but your eyes find their way back to her jawline, and you release her hand to ghost your fingertips over the lines that adorn it.

“You hadn’t noticed them before?”

Adora’s voice doesn’t startle you, but you know there’s more to it than the question itself. It’s an invitation to communicate, open-ended and patient. You fight the instinct that tells you to answer her that _you’re not stupid enough to miss something that’s right in front of your face_ and run. You shake the intrusive thought away.

“I had. But I hadn’t,” you offer. “I guess I’ve been pretending not to see them. Then I started noticing you were covered in them, and I tried not to let it get to me, but when I saw your _face_ -” You bite the inside of your cheek and Adora squeezes your hand. You swallow drily, gathering the strength to continue. “I don’t know why it happened like that, but seeing them on your face was too much.” 

Adora’s stupid beautiful face, covered in mistakes you can never erase.

She leads the palm of your hand to her lips and presses a small kiss on it before resting it against her cheek. “I don’t mind, you know.”

 _That I hurt you?_ “Having scars?”

“Yeah.” Her smile widens and you find yourself taken in by her adoring gaze. She seems relaxed, happy to feel your palm against her skin, leaning into the touch like her cheek belongs there. “It’s a part of everything we’ve been through.” You raise an eyebrow and tilt your head, letting yourself fall back into the bed and wrapping your arms around her when she settles beside you. She snuggles closer, pulling your shirt’s collar to lay on your chest, and you feel all the tension leaving your body.

You’re ashamed to think of what just happened. Spiraling into another panic attack was the furthest thing on your plans for the day, but thankfully, Adora had been there to hold you through. “What do you mean?” you finally ask. 

Adora shifts to look up at you, but not before rubbing her face on the fuzz covering your collarbone. “Well, everything we’ve been through has brought us here. All the bickering and fighting, all the laughter and the pain. I regret the way I left you, but I can’t regret everything that happened because it led to this moment.” She’s biting her lip, obviously struggling to find the right words, so you nod patiently for her to resume speaking. “We’ve hurt each other, but we’re here now and there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.” She traces the scar on her face with her free hand, smiling softly. "These scars are part of our story, so I think they're beautiful, in their own way."

You shut your eyes to keep the tears away, but your voice lays bare the effect Adora's words have on you.

“When did you become so wise?”

“On my first day of Force Captain orientation.”

You snort. “You only attended one day of Force Captain orientation.”

“Yeah, imagine how powerful I’d be if I'd attended the rest,” she grins.

You are finally able to laugh again, placing your palm on her forehead and pushing her. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m _your_ idiot.”

Once again left breathless, you cradle her face with both hands and kiss her. When your lips part, you sigh and look away. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

Adora kisses you again, tenderly scratching the back of your ear until you find yourself purring as loud as Melog.

“I’m working on it,” you add. “On accepting and moving on from everything I’ve done. But sometimes it hits me like a freight train.” You scoot closer to let her hold you from behind.

“I know.” Adora envelops herself around you, encasing you in warmth and forgiveness. “It happens to me too.”

“I know. It’s just that it hurts, sometimes.”

“That's because you’re healing.”

“Hm?” You wrap your tail around Adora's ankle, the connection adding to your sense of security.

“It’s something Perfuma once told me: healing hurts. An injury hurts more when it’s starting to heal than in the moment it happens. She said our hearts work the same way, and I agree.”

You lace your fingers with Adora’s, using your free hand to scratch Melog under their chin. Melog is taking half of your pillow and part of Adora’s, but you don’t complain. “I guess you have a point.”

“Remember when I healed you, after rescuing you from Prime’s ship?”

You wince, the memory still fresh. “Hard to forget.”

“Yeah. So I’m guessing you were sore for days after that.”

You nod. “It felt like when we were cadets and training was so hard we spent the night in pain because of it.”

“Exactly.” She presses a kiss to the back of your neck, tickling the sensitive skin of your scar and giggling when your ear twitches because of it. “Well, I think it’s a lot like that: we’re healing from everything, but it’s still going to hurt for a while. It’s part of it.”

“Phantom pain… It makes sense.”

You’re surprised to note it makes you feel a little better about it. It also makes you cringe to realise that you probably have many more panic attacks ahead. Hearing Adora’s steady breathing beside your ear, you figure it’s okay. You want to heal. You want to be the person Adora believes you are.

“Adora?”

“Yes, love?”

You’re caught off-guard by the term of endearment and almost forget what you were about to say. You hear Melog snorting at the top of your head and clear your throat.

“Thank you. For everything.”

Adora presses herself closer to you and kisses the back of your neck again. You can feel her smiling against you. “I love you.”

You let out a pleased trill. “I love you too. Goodnight.”

If Adora can forgive you, maybe you can forgive yourself.

You stay awake until Adora’s snores lull you to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little longer than usual, but I hope you can forgive me for that. I didn't want to cut it in half and break the whole 1 chapter = 1 night format.  
> I know it's been over a month, but I've been really tired, and I'm usually nowhere near inspired enough when my work day ends.
> 
> I hope you're all doing okay and I hope you enjoy this chapter <3


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